The End of All Things
by hbrackett
Summary: The Pack takes Stiles for granted one time too many. Two-shot, may turn out to be a Deathfic. Slight Sterek. T for themes of depression/suicide. Last Chapter is rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N – Have been in a weird mood lately, not exactly bad and felt like writing this. I don't think it's my best work, but it was in me and now it's out.**_

"We should have seen it coming." No one was really sure who said it, or even if anyone said it, because the thought was pounding so strongly through each of their minds. They _should_ have seen it coming. They all waited in the appropriately named 'waiting room' for any news at all…Stiles was stable, Stiles was awake and asking for them, Stiles had slipped away and was gone forever…

Scott just looked…_broken_…Allison sat next to him, pale and shocked. She tried to place her hand over his, and he flinched away from her. She understood why, though it still felt like a knife in her heart. He was blaming himself for being with her when he should have been with him.

Jackson, a boy out of touch with his own feelings and almost completely incapable of having feelings for others since his parents sat him down and gave him 'the talk', was squirming in his seat as almost forgotten feelings of guilt and compassion stumbled their way through the maze of his soul. He strongly suspected it was his fault…and although he never liked Stilinski, never thought of him as a friend…he felt that there would be a dreadful price to pay for what happened.

Lydia was a mess. Her make-up was streaked to clown-like proportions. Her straggled hair hung over her face as she wept with great broken sobs. Guilt tore at her for her own part in this. Stiles was the only person who had ever seen inside her, who had ever just accepted her for who she was and didn't want her to change. Since getting out of the hospital after Peter's attack, she had rejected his presence because of that penetrating insight. She was terrified he would look _too_ closely and see something awful. People called her a bitch because she wanted them to, because it was _safe_ to be a bitch. Stiles saw past that, and worshipped what he saw…so Lydia pushed him away before he saw anything else…rejected him before he could reject her…it just had to be that way. She could risk his anger, but his disgust would kill her.

Each one of them had gotten used to Stiles being this indestructible doormat that they could walk all over, abuse at leisure, use him when needed and ignore him afterward. Without intending to, he had become the Pack's omega…a single, unattached (and therefore helpless) runt that others could use to build up their own self-confidence.

Melissa McCall led Derek in, and went to check on Stiles. Her eyes were red and socketed from weeping; she looked as if she had lost her own son, which in a way she had. Derek was clutching the plaid button-down shirt Stiles wore over his t-shirt the day before. He seemed to be wringing it in his hands as if trying to squeeze Essence of Stiles onto the floor.

Derek looked around at the group.

"What the _fuck_ happened?" he growled.

Scott sighed. As the only other werewolf present, he was most likely to survive answering Derek's question.

"Last night at around 1 am, Stiles went home and overdosed on his father's pain pills, then his father found him and had a heart attack. They're both in critical condition."

Derek collapsed bonelessly in one of the ugly molded plastic chairs that sadistic people fill waiting rooms with.

"This is all my fault." The Alpha covered his face with his hands.

All of them looked at him, and then each other.

"Derek, this is because of _me_ ignoring him, it's my fault…" began Scott.

"No, Scott…it's my fault for taking you away from him…that's how it must have looked anyway…" Allison said as fresh tears started burning an acid trail down her cheeks.

"I'm the one that was a cold bitch to him. I'm the one that ripped out his heart and stepped on it at that Formal and used him like a scratching post afterward." Lydia growled through broken sobs.

"I never passed up a chance to put him down, make him feel like shit." Jackson admitted.

"He saved my life. Several times. And I paid him back by constantly threatening him, terrorizing him…and just yesterday, rejecting him." Derek said in a low voice.

"_Rejecting_ him?" asked Scott.

"He wanted the bite. Said he was tired of feeling helpless, that all he wanted to do was save his friends from the things that were out there, and he was afraid he would fail because he was only human. He asked for it to be able to protect everyone."

"What did you say?" asked Lydia.

"I don't want to talk about it. What about the rest of you? You all saw him yesterday…did he say or do anything…did any of you say or do anything that makes sense of all of this?" Derek's eyes bored into them, demanding the truth. Talking took on the feel of Confession, with Derek as their priest.

"I'll go first." Lydia assumed no one would argue with her, and she was right. "I ran into him at the mall…"

{}{}{}{}

"Lydia! Hey, Lydia!" Stiles called over to her, stuffing a piece of paper in his pocket.

Lydia continued to examine the scarves on the racks, pretending she didn't hear. She took the extra seconds to shore up her defenses, and fix her mask firmly in place. Not that it did any good with this one…

"Biles? Viles?" she feigned struggling to remember his name.

"Stiles." He grinned at her, knowing this was her game, though if she had looked closer she might have noticed the grin was a little forced.

"Um, listen, I know that you're usually pretty busy on weekends…"

Lydia growled. He knew perfectly well she had broken up with Jackson. Was this his way of throwing a sarcastic jab at her? She turned to face him, but failed to find any trace of sarcasm in the puppy-dog face he was giving her. It occurred to her that he was starting off this way just to give her an out in case she wanted to say 'no' to whatever he was about to ask, an out that wouldn't reflect badly on either of them.

He ran out of words as he gazed into her eyes. She stiffened, again panicking at the thought of seeing disappointment or disgust in his face when he looked at her. She turned back to the scarves. This started him up again.

"…and, well I'm having a party and I wanted to invite you first of all, since I know you'd be insulted if you weren't right at the top of the invite list…"

Lydia was still dealing with the aftermath of the attack, the freaky visions of Peter Hale and most importantly the loss of her status as the school's reigning queen. Being seen at a Stiles party could be just the thing to cement her place right below the creepy lunch lady in the school's popularity ranking system.

Then again, from what others told her…Stiles had pretty much saved her life and never left the hospital until she recovered.

She warred with herself in her own mind for roughly two seconds before coming to a decision. She would refuse…but not because of the popularity thing. Saying yes would only open the door to them becoming closer. If they became closer, he would gain even more access to the inner Lydia. If that happened…he would find out she was nothing special…nothing at all. She would die before letting that happen, especially with this one.

"And what are we celebrating, Stiles? Has Scott finally proposed to you?" Lydia hissed inwardly…she meant it to sound more like a joke, and less like an insult…but it was hard to remember how to sheathe claws when they were out all the time.

He flinched then, and when she glanced at him, she saw him look away from her as if he couldn't bear the sight any longer.

"Why do you have to be like that all the time? Can't you just once…"

It was a good thing Stiles wasn't a werewolf. If he were, he might have heard Lydia's heart racing as if she were running a marathon. She crossed a line…he was going to call her out, tell her he was wrong about her, that she was nothing, despicable…it made her angry. If he knew her so well, why couldn't he understand she was only trying to protect herself?

"…look, it's my birthday and I thought you would want to…"

"Celebrate a mistake?" she finished for him. Lydia froze, unable to believe what had just come out of her mouth.

She waited for it. She had gone way too far. He would finally rage at her and call her a heartless bitch. It would be real and true, and she would deserve it. When nothing happened, she steeled herself for what she would see and slowly turned around.

"Oh my God, Stiles, I am so sorry…"

He was gone.

{}{}{}{}

Now they were _all_ looking at her with disgust. Thing was, it didn't bother her. She didn't give a rat's ass what they thought of her. It couldn't be any worse than what she thought of herself. Derek glared at her a few moments longer than the rest, but eventually they all turned away.

"I-" Scott began. Derek cut him off.

"What about you, Jackson?"

The blond boy shook his head. He only realized after Lydia told her story why today was different than any other day; why Stiles had not shrugged off Jackson's taunts and even thrown a few back at him like he always did.

"I saw him at Lacrosse practice. He was sitting on the bench, watching us play. He was in full uniform, even though he was off the team. The other guys were laughing at him, except for Danny because he wasn't there and...he's not like that. I went over to him and asked him…"

{}{}{}{}

"What the fuck are you doing here, Stilinksi?" Jackson asked him.

"It's 'Stilinski', not 'Stilinksi'." Stiles growled. He was holding a folded piece of paper in his hands and turning it over and over while he stared at the ground. "Hey Jackson…listen, I know things have been weird lately, and we haven't exactly been close, but I wanted to ask you…"

"No, I don't think you're attractive." Jackson laughed. "Danny told me all about that. And for the record, that's coming from a straight guy!"

"Duh, of course you wouldn't." Stiles said, looking only slightly crestfallen. "Danny never answered my question-"

"Danny said he wouldn't suck your dick if he were drowning and there was oxygen in your balls." Jackson lied.

Danny had actually confided in Jackson that Stiles was pretty cute, and that it was too bad he wasn't gay because Danny would have asked him out long ago. Jackson was horrified by this news, and had nightmare visions of double dates with Danny and Stiles smooching in the back seat. He wanted to see Danny happy, but having Stiles around meant having _Scott_ around, and Scott just annoyed the shit out of Jackson. If Stiles _were_ a little bit bi, that quip about Danny ought to squash any chances of having to share his best friend with Scott's best friend. Jackson liked Stiles a little bit; he kind of admired that Stiles never stopped trying out for Lacrosse even though he never got to play. Determination to improve was a driving force in Jackson's life, and he respected that in others. In fact, Jackson was a lot like Stiles…only Jackson had looks and talent. In another world, they could have been friends. But Scott just rubbed him the wrong way. That meant Stiles needed to be pushed away too.

Stiles weathered the news about Danny silently for a few seconds. He tried to speak, but only some high-pitched strangled sound came out. Then he took a deep breath and tried again.

"Look, today is kind of a special day for me and I'd really like to be able to say that I scored a Lacrosse goal before it's over. I know I'm not officially on the team, but I figure it counts even if it's just during practice. One goal, and I'm out of your perfect hair. How about it?"

Jackson considered. "Sure thing…I'll just let the other guys know."

Jackson blew his Captain's whistle, and jogged to the center of the field while the rest of the team crowded around.

"What's the deal, Jackson? Why's Stilinski hanging around?" asked Lockwood, who was acting as goalie while Danny was home studying.

"He wants to score a Lacrosse goal. Let's give him a hard time at first, then let him score so he feels good about it."

"Why?" asked Lockwood unbelievably. He had joined in on Jackson's torment of both McCall and Stilinski numerous times.

"Why not? Don't be a douche, man. Let's go."

The other boys shrugged.

Jackson motioned Stiles out onto the field. He came running, and they only laughed for a few minutes when he tripped and fell flat on his face. Well, maybe more than a few minutes.

He got up again, and looked so grimly determined that Jackson decided he _would_ be friends with Stilinski, Scott McCall be damned. After Stiles scored the goal, Jackson would tell him the truth about Danny too. Maybe he would even invite him to go for pizza later. Danny would be there, and who knew where things might lead?

Jackson's team took him at his word. Stiles did not score any goal on the numerous occasions he got the ball, and they viciously repelled his every attempt to gain ground. He surprised them a few times. He was faster than they gave him credit for, and he almost broke through the ranks twice. Jackson called Matthews over, who had successfully blocked Stiles (barely) both times, the last time only by tackling the smaller teen to the ground. Jackson was more and more impressed with Stiles the more he watched. He vowed nothing would stop Stiles getting onto the field at their next game.

"All right, give it to him this time." Jackson told him.

Stiles scooped up the ball and raced for the goal. Lockwood looked over at Jackson, and Jackson gave the goalie a sharp nod. Stilinski would remember this until the day he died.

Then Matthews came out of nowhere and crashed into Stiles with sickening force.

"What the fuck?" Jackson called out. Jackson raced over to the fallen Stiles. He grabbed Matthews on the way.

"What the hell, man? What was that all about?" Jackson shoved Matthews hard.

"You said to 'give it to him'!" Matthews responded, shoving Jackson back.

"I MEANT LET HIM SCORE THE FUCKING GOAL, YOU RETARD!" Jackson shouted back. He bit his tongue, not wanting Stiles to think Jackson pitied him, because he knew that Stiles really had some talent. He was so furious with Matthews for blowing this, and had no idea how to fix it. After beating Matthews bloody, Jackson turned around to look at Stiles. Where the boy lay, there was only the Lacrosse helmet. Five feet away from that were the shoulder pads. Pieces of the uniform formed a trail all the way to the bleachers, behind which Stiles had parked his now missing jeep. Laying in the middle of the parking spot was the Lacrosse stick. It was snapped cleanly in two.

{}{}{}{}

"I really meant for it to be good for him, I never…" Jackson trailed off. The idea of Stiles getting stomped on by both himself AND Lydia in the same day made him a little sick. Looking around at Scott and Allison and Derek, he wondered if they had done something to him as well. Jackson didn't quite have the balls to challenge Derek, so he settled on Scott and his squeeze.

"What about you two? Anything to share?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't just one big thing like with you guys…it was just a hundred little things. Me breaking plans with him, spending all my time with Allison…putting him in danger with all this werewolf business…"

Derek's eyes flashed crimson at him.

"You're lying. What happened yesterday?"

"Well, today is his birthday, but yesterday is the day that sticks out even more in his mind. Yesterday…was the anniversary of his mother's death."

This news hit them all like a sledgehammer in the gut.

"Stiles always goes to the cemetery at midnight to visit his Mom and tell her what's been going on with him, if he accomplished anything special. I always go with him since she was like my mother too. Last night, I was at Allison's since her parents were away…I meant to meet him like I always did, but…"

Allison blushed.

"You were busy." Derek said in a cutting voice.

Scott's eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah. I got a few texts, a few messages…I finally shut the phone off…this was a once in a lifetime chance for me and Allison to spend some real quality time together…but then…"

"Let's hear it. Let's hear the big excuse."

"Well, after…I just…fell asleep." Scott finished lamely.

"You mean you _both_ fell asleep?" Derek clarified.

Allison shook her head. "No. I stayed awake. I let Scott sleep because I didn't want him to go. I had no idea about any of this stuff with Stiles, it was just like any other night to me. I was awake."

Derek rolled eyes that were becoming suspiciously wet. Scott thought Derek would try to trounce him, but the Alpha just looked miserable.

"Stiles came to see you too. What exactly did you two say to each other?" Scott asked.

Derek was silent. He continued to wring the shirt, which the others were just noticing was torn. Something crinkled in the shirt pocket. The Alpha unbuttoned the pocket and took out Stiles' cell phone and a small folded piece of paper. The phone was off and the battery was dead. Lydia had the same brand and pulled a charger out of her purse and plugged it into the wall. Derek handed her the phone, and she plugged it in. She was about to turn it on when she heard Derek gasp.

The Alpha had unfolded the paper. It was a checklist, written in blue marker. Each item was crossed out, and the word 'FAIL' was written next to it in black marker. It read:

'_Stiles' List of Fantastic Accomplishments, 18__th__ year.'_

_Successfully invite Lydia Martin to your birthday party!_

_Score a Lacrosse goal with Jackson!_

_Repair friendship with Scott!_

_Really get to know Allison!_

_Become a bad-guy eating kickass werewolf instead of a useless klutz!_

_TELL DEREK._

_Lose virginity. Or at least get kissed._

A eighth item was drawn in the same black marker that had written 'FAIL'.

It read simply "End It." Next to it was written the word 'Success!'

They each took the list and read it silently before passing it to the next person.

"Spill it, Derek."

Derek sighed.

"He came to my hideout around 11 pm. He looked bad, I guess from the beating he got on the Lacrosse field. I took one look at him, and got furious…I…hate to see him hurt. He is always hurting himself for me….for us."

{}{}{}{}

"Stiles. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?" Derek said from the darkness of the train car. Stiles jumped just as he was sticking the paper in his pocket.

"You know, you don't have to be all 'super-predator', I know you can hear me coming from a mile away. Ever thought of welcoming me into your brightly lit and not-at-all-creepy dwelling and asking me how I'm doing? Well, first you have to _live_ in a non-creepy dwelling, and this place is actually about twelve steps further towards Creep-ville from the old house-"

"Stop talking." Derek commanded.

"And maybe, instead of threats, a nice cup of hot chocolate? I wouldn't say no to a soda, or maybe even a Brusskie…"

"Stiles!" Derek roared at him.

Stiles shut up.

Derek noticed the black eye and the way he was cradling his arm.

"What the hell happened to you?" If some monster were responsible, Derek would rip it apart with his bare hands.

"Guys were a little too rough on the Lacrosse field. I don't want to talk about it." Stiles' voice was different when he said this. It was a tone he had never heard from the teen before. It seemed…resigned.

"Did Jackson do this to you?" Derek asked. If so, the blond would get all the bites he ever wanted from the Alpha. And then some.

"No. I _said_ I don't want to talk about it." Now there was an edge to his voice. The same kind of edge Derek used all the time.

"You might want to consider leaving the sports to Scott. You have-"

"No talent whatsoever? Yeah, got that memo, thanks." More edge.

Derek was going to say 'You have too much going for you to waste your time with Lacrosse. Let knuckleheads like Scott and Jackson hit each other with sticks.' He looked at Stiles a long time.

"Why are you here, Stiles?"

"Two reasons. Derek, I've been looking back on my life…and I'm not happy. I feel like everyone depends on me…and I've gotten pretty lucky with actually helping people, but…I'm no good to anyone like this. No one takes me seriously, and with good reason. I don't know how I'm not dead from everything that's come at us. Scott's a werewolf, Allison's a Hunter, Lydia is a genius with immunity powers, and Jackson's just good at everything. I'm worse than useless as a human."

"Stiles, are you asking me for the bite?" Derek asked. Part of him was thrilled, ecstatic even. Derek had wanted Stiles in his Pack since the 'cut off my arm, Stiles' incident. He was the bravest, strongest most determined human being Derek had ever met. Stiles was also very easy on the eyes, though Derek would never admit that. Stiles was a minor, after all…until tomorrow. But no matter how deeply buried, the fascination had only grown over time, until it was now full-blown attraction. Stiles was only human however, and being around Derek could only put him in danger. But if Stiles were a werewolf…

He shook his head. It would be incredibly selfish of Derek to have Stiles throw away his chance at a normal life and get pursued by crazy Hunters and monsters, just so Derek could be happy. If Derek had any indication that Stiles had similar feelings about _him_, why that would be a whole different story altogether.

"Yes, I'm asking for the bite. Your Uncle Peter offered it to me, you know."

This revelation rocked Derek to his core. "He did? What did you say?"

"I said no, that I didn't want it." Stiles said simply. '_Not from HIM, anyway_.' Stiles thought.

Derek's heart sank in his chest. Stiles didn't really want it…didn't really want to be with Derek. "Then why are you asking for it?"

"I told you, to be able to protect my friends. And-"

Derek cut him off. "That's a noble reason, Stiles, but I'm afraid I have to say no."

Stiles looked stricken. "Why?"

"Stiles, look around you. Where are these friends you are trying to protect? Scott and Allison only care about themselves. Jackson and Lydia have their heads up their asses. If you ask me, you don't have any friends!" Derek said it harshly, furious at the truth of it. His thoughts were as crimson as an Alpha Glare. '_No friends that appreciate you, like I do. None that are worth you throwing your human life away over. Well, I'm going to have a Pack meeting to end all Pack meetings tomorrow. This bunch is going to learn not to take Stiles for granted, if I have to nail their pelts to the wall to do it. Stiles may be human, but he is going to get the respect due him as the only selfless member of this entire Pack.'_

Stiles stepped back a few paces, and Derek had to resist the urge to lunge after him. He looked shocked, and was blinking rapidly. A strange thread began to wind its way through his scent, like a sour note in an otherwise beautiful music score.

"Stiles? What was the other thing you came here for?"

"Huh?" Stiles asked.

"When you came in, you said it was for two reasons. What was the other one?"

Stiles shuddered for a moment…then became still. He looked like he had come to a long put off decision. He gave Derek the fakest smile the Alpha had ever seen on a human being.

"Nothing. I'm bothering you. I bother everybody. I'm going to stop bothering everybody now. Sorry to bother you." Stiles walked away stiffly, almost like a mannequin. The strange scent got even stronger…almost like an attack scent, but different. Derek never smelled anything like it. Suddenly, he became very, very worried.

It was Derek, who had not been able to get that strange scent and Stiles' odd behavior out of his mind for two whole hours, that discovered the Stilinskis and called for an ambulance. He had come to the house around 1 am and found the window to Stiles' room locked. That was odd. That window was never locked…closed sometimes, but never locked. Derek listened for Stiles' heartbeat, and realized with a surge of terror that it was sluggish…and slowing.

Derek broke the window, and heard Sheriff Stilinski shout in surprise. Derek retreated to the top of the roof and listened to the man stumble sleepily into Stiles' room and switch on the light. There was an agonized scream and then the sound of a body hitting the floor. Derek cursed. In a moment, he was in the room. The Sheriff lay on the floor, unconscious. Stiles was lying on his bed, eyes open with an empty pill bottle in his one hand and an empty bottle of Jack in the other. The eyes were glazed, and foam was coming from the corner of his mouth. Numb and panicked, Derek grabbed the phone on Stiles' desk and dialed 911. At first, he growled into the phone, having shifted to where human speech was impossible. Using every ounce of his willpower, he reined the wolf in and managed to growl something that may have sounded like 'Ambulance!' to the confused operator, who (realizing it was the Sheriff's address) sent medical assistance immediately. Derek left before they got there, taking Stiles' shirt with him that still reeked of that strange odor. He knew what the scent was, now. It was the scent of suicide.

{}{}{}{}

The phone beeped. It was fully charged. Lydia unplugged it and turned it on. She looked blankly at the 3x3 dot matrix that appeared.

"Anyone happen to know the code?" Lydia asked.

They all shook their heads. Derek glared at Scott. "Stiles knows you use 'Allison' for your user name and passcode, but you don't know his freaking finger-sweep code for his phone?"

Lydia randomly tried some alphabet letters. Z was a bust. So was N. H worked. Lydia gave Derek a knowing look.

"I think you rejected him twice, Derek." she said evenly.

Derek was silent.

Stiles had about 18 calls out to Scott. The incoming call log was empty. They looked at the text messages, also out to Scott. None had any replies.

_Scott, u know what tonite is. Plz meet me there, some stuff we need to tlk about._

_ Scott, really bad day 2day. Lyd was rude, and am tired of it._

_ Scott, u and Al maybe want to get pizza?_

_ Scott?_

_ Got my ass kicked at Lacrosse. Wish u were there. JW is a jerk._

_ Listen, I know u wit Allison. Fine. But don't you forget tonite!_

_ U going to forget, ain't ya?_

_ Scott, going to Derek's. Gonna ask him to bite me. Only u could save me!_

_ Or not._

_ Nevermind. Bout everything. See ya around._

_ Tell my Dad I'm sorry._

_ I'll tell Mom when I see her._

_ Here w/Mom and Jack. Everything hurts. Hurts to breathe. Dad has stuff for pain._

_ 18 years of shit is too much…no more._

_Bye_

Scott was bawling. Lydia and Allison were getting there. Jackson heaved and ran into the nearby restroom to throw up.

Derek was now completely numb with shock in a way he last felt when he realized almost all his family were dead. This just could not be real. Not in any sane world.

There was a video saved to the phone's memory. Derek pressed 'Play' and at the sound of Stiles' voice, the Pack gathered around again to watch it, their faces red and wrecked with tears.

The video was wobbly at first as Stiles propped the phone up. His voice was slurred when he spoke, and coupled with wild gesticulations of his hands.

"Hey guys. At my Mom's grave, by myself for the first time since…when you find this, I'll be gone…maybe you'll notice. I stillllllllll think Scott might save me…but maybe not. I'm not Allison, and she has the only 'Get Out of Death Free' card. Just some last thoughts for you all. Lydia…I really really want to say something MEAN to you. I really do. I think I know what to say that would make you go ALL! TO! PIECES! BUT! It would be a lie. BUT YOU'D BELIEVE IT! But it would be a lie. So I won't say anything. You're beautiful. I loved you. Bitch. No, that's a lie. I still love you, only as a friend. Bitch. You're my friend-bitch. Bitch-friend. Whatever. Allison, you're not a bitch. Well, you are for taking Scott away from me, but you didn't do that to hurt me. You're just greedy. Scott-greedy. Scott-greedy not-bitch. That's what you are. I love you too. As a friend. I don't really know you, but I love you because you love Scott. I love Scott. More than a friend. As a best friend. Shitty best friend. Shitty-werewolf best-friend with Scott-greedy not-bitch. Please take care of my ex-bitch-friend Lydia. Please tell her she's beautiful. She needs that. Don't tell her she's smart. She doesn't like that. I'm gonna stop saying bitch now. It's rude!"

Stiles breathed in and out a few times, wiping away tears and sniffling furiously.

"Scott. Don't stop saving people. It's the one thing you're good at. Well, except for me. You sucked there. But try to be there for everybody else. You know. Real people. Not like me. I wish you'd told me Scott. I wish you'd told me that you just needed me until someone else came along. I wish you hadn't been my friend if that's all I was…a place holder until Allison came along. I love you like my brother. But I hate you too. You made me think I was real. Like, Pinocchio real. I mean, not wooden. But I AM wooden, so shame on you for fooling me. You gave me what I needed and took it away. Please don't do that to Allison when the next person comes along. Allison will crossbow your ass. With wolfsbane. Derek will have to cut off your ass. I don't know if werewolf asses grow back. I'd look it up tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure I'll be dead. Shitty-werewolf no-ass best-friend.

Stiles did a slow turn-about, almost stumbling into another tombstone.

"Jackson! I know you're there! Jackson Whittemore, you adopted co-captain Scott-wannabe. Why would you want to be like Scott? He has no ass! Or will have no ass, as soon as Allison crossbows it and Derek cuts it off. He has future ass-lessness. Don't be like that. You are 100% ass, so with no ass there will be no Jackson! You were adopted. Boo, hoo. No one cares except you. At least you were honest, not like Lying-Scott future-no-ass, shitty-werewolf best-friend. You let me know I was fake. You were straight with me. Like truthful straight not 'I like girls' straight. You're both kinds of straight…maybe. Adopted co-captain Scott-wannabe double-straight maybe 100% ass Jackson. That's who you are. Don't tell anyone else the truth. They couldn't take it. I couldn't take it. Just be who you are. The world needs to look at you and go 'Wow, I wish I were Jackson.' Just don't tell them what a mess you are, you know, on the inside. And get over that whole adoption crap! You could have it worse! You could be a fake person like me!"

Stiles lay down on the grass of his mother's grave. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I was fake-alive, but I think I'm gonna be real-dead. For reals. But I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh yes. _Derek._"

Stiles slowly turned his head to look at the camera.

"I love you too. Not as a friend. Scott and Peter…they made me scared of werewolves, Derek. You too…but you made me love them too. Peter wanted to bite me. I said no because he was…NUTS…nutty scary meany bitey Alpha. I could never be like that. Then you were Alpha. You saved me once or twice. You hit me A LOT! AND said lots of threats! Savey hitty threateny sexy…oops, there it is. That slipped out. Derek…I have lusted after your body since you did a strip tease for Danny in my room. Ha! I told you! And you can't rip out my throat because when you find this I'll be dead. Well, you could still do it, but I won't feel it. I wanted you to bite me so I could be with you and you could show me the good things about being a werewolf instead of the bad things. The good werewolf things like you had with your family, with your sister…not your uncle. I wanted to share them with you. I wanted my first kiss with you. My first…well I'm not drunk enough NEARLY to go into all the things I wanted to do with you. I dream about you. What being with you would be like. We would get a real apartment though, none of this 'lair' shit. Derek, I was going to tell you I loved you, but you told me I had no friends…I had nobody. You were right. I thought you were my friend. I thought you were…but how could anybody that hits me and threatens me ever love me? Why do I see that as love? Wasn't one Lydia enough? Is that why I got over her and fell in love with you, because you hate me so much more than she does? Why does everybody hate me? Why do I hate _myself_ so much?"

The next three minutes were just Stiles crying and shuddering.

"I was wrong about everything. I'm tired of being wrong. Oh God am I tired. Mom…I love you. I know you love me back. I need you so much and I can't wait anymore. If one more person hurts me I'll go crazy. Dad…I am so sorry to do this to you. Please don't hurt yourself or blame anybody…this was all me, my fault. I'm not good enough. If I lived, I'd disappoint you. That would make me go crazy too."

Stiles stood up, dried his tears and became remarkably calm. He even smiled, and it looked genuine…beatific almost.

"I'm done now. This is Stiles Stilinski. Signing out." The video ended.

Derek wanted to crush the phone in his hand.

Melissa McCall came into the room. She was crying openly now.

Derek leapt to his feet.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"The Sheriff. He's…he's gone." Melissa sobbed out.

The group looked around at each other with lost expressions.

"And Stiles?" Derek's voice broke.

"Coma. Possible brain damage, but it's too early to tell."

Melissa left them.

"I need to give him the bite. I should have done it when he asked." Derek moaned.

"Derek, if he wakes up and finds out his father's dead…it will kill him. He'll kill himself. Again." Lydia told him gently.

Derek knew she was right. He also knew he didn't care, that he would guard Stiles night and day until he was over it, if he ever got over it, if Derek could just get the chance to tell Stiles how he felt. But was that just more selfishness? Derek didn't know anymore, was terrified to trust his own judgment. It had betrayed him time and time again.

"What should I do? All of you, please…tell me what I should do?" he begged.

_**A/N – Not really sure how to end this. What do you guys think?**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N – Wow. You guys are amazing. Never had a response like that. I seem to have made a few people cry (and I feel really guilty about that) but I was crying myself reading the reviews. You all had great things to say, but I still want to apologize. The whole idea came from reading Jeff Davis (Creator God of Teen Wolf) say in an interview: "Stiles will never get the girl, he will never play Lacrosse and he will never become a werewolf." or something like that. I'm mad that he made those rules, but even madder that he told us since we now know there's no hope. I tried to imagine that world and this is what I came up with. It's horrifying…except for the little loophole (Stiles never gets the GIRL) that gives me hope for the show. So, Teen Wolf has its rules. The neat thing about fan fiction is that we can break rules if we want.**_

_**And I choose to break them.**_

_**( By the way, if anyone is confused, these events take place in very early season two. Isaac, Erica and Boyd are around and are the only werewolves besides Scott and Derek. The Kanima plot never happened since Jackson did not get the bite in this AU. Lydia has a natural immunity to werewolves.)**_

"Do it, Derek." Scott was the first to tell him. "I failed him every fucking day of my life. I'm not going to fail him now."

"What say the rest of you? This is too big a responsibility for me alone. You all need to weigh in on this. We're a Pack, remember?"

"I'm not sure I should have a vote. But if I do…I say yes." Allison held Scott's hand while she said this.

"Jackson?"

"Derek…I know why you chose not to bite me the night I asked for it. I was a selfish asshole, and I didn't deserve it. Stiles is good people. He's worth all three of those newbies you have in your Pack now. Please give it to him."

Derek gave Jackson a long look. "Thank you. Ask me again someday, Jackson. You may get a different answer next time."

Jackson smiled, though he was still pale, red-eyed and shocked.

"Lydia?" Derek asked gently.

Lydia closed her eyes and shook her head.

"You're saying no?"

"I agree with Allison. I shouldn't vote on Stiles' life. I have no right. If you all say yes, then go ahead and do it. Just leave me out of it."

Lydia turned and left.

They watched her go, and they all felt smaller somehow…like their power was diminished without her. Derek snarled and went after her.

In the hall, Derek grabbed her arm and whirled her around.

"WHAT?" she screamed at him.

"We need you, Lydia. The bite is dangerous, and he has a better shot at survival if he is surrounded by his Pack…by people he cares about."

"Listen to you! Pack? I'm not in anyone's Pack! I'm all alone! Your demented uncle bit me, and I still didn't change! That was the most terrifying night of my life! I am STILL having nightmares over it! You want me to stand there and watch you do the same thing to Stiles? I am sorry, but I can't!"

She started walking away.

"Lydia…" Derek said quietly. "…he needs you. Especially you."

Lydia stopped, but did not turn around. "Why 'especially me'?"

"Because he cares about you. He cares about all of us. That's what will save him."

"I…don't…deserve…to be cared about by him." She hissed.

"None of us do. That's what is so amazing about him. We don't deserve it, and he cares anyway."

Lydia turned to look at Derek. She had expected judgment and condemnation…and saw only shared misery. They were _all_ guilty of what happened. No one was singling her out because Stiles was once in love with her.

She walked back towards Derek and he gave her a hug. This would likely never happen again; neither of them were the hugging type. They were both Alphas in their own ways, both used to dominating others rather than showing affection. That might change after tonight, no matter what happened. Or it might not.

Derek led her back down the hall, and the group silently entered Stiles' room. Machines buzzed and beeped quietly, and Stiles seemed almost shrunken…less real. He was so still he could have been made of wood, just like he claimed in his drunken rant on the video. Derek could only hope that the spark of who Stiles was still rested in there.

Derek shuddered as he let the wolf flood his body with power. He was used to this as a Beta…but it was so much more powerful now. Derek opened his mouth, feeling the ivory fangs push pleasurably into his mouth. The human feelings with their annoying complex emotions muted and receded, and wolfish instinct took over.

Derek leaned down and bit Stiles on the wrist. Blood pooled into the bedsheets and was absorbed. There was no response from the body, though one of the machines beeped slightly faster.

Derek shifted back slowly, the grief returning with his human features.

Jackson was looking at him with a hint of envy, Scott with grief, Allison with shock and Lydia with horror…it must be like reliving Peter's attack for her. Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Stiles' blood drying on his skin. They all had his blood on their hands one way or another.

They took seats and waited, being joined a few minutes later by Derek's new Pack. Erica gave Stiles the once-over and sniffed dismissively, causing Derek AND Lydia to growl at her.

She rolled her eyes and flounced into a free chair next to Jackson and started cozying up to him. He looked like he wanted to throw up again.

Isaac and Boyd looked appropriately somber and took their own seats without comment. Isaac dwelled briefly on his own suicide attempt about a month before he met Derek. Boyd never had any suicidal urges, but an uncle of his shot himself after his wife died and Boyd remembered what it had done to his family. The new Betas were a little uncomfortable being in the room with Stiles, but Derek needed them here to give him an edge on making it through the Turn, and they would obey their Alpha.

No one spoke. No one moved. The machines hummed.

Then Stiles started to seize.

Derek and Scott jumped up, but were knocked out of the way by Erica who rolled Stiles on his side and gripped his arms while foam poured from his mouth. Seeing her old affliction ravage another was more than she could bear.

"Scott! Get your mother, NOW!" she screeched at him. Scott flew out the door. She held him tightly, needing all of her extra strength to do so. "Boyd! Isaac! Get over here!" Erica screamed. The two Betas obeyed as if she were the Alpha. "Take hold of his legs! Derek, grab his head! Hold him in place, but GENTLY!"

They did as they were told while he rode out the seizure. Stiles stopped trembling, then convulsed once, twice…then flatlined. They stared at the body, numb with cold horror.

{}{}{}{}

_It's good to see you again. Mom, I've missed you so much! Dad? Why are you here?_

_I think the question is, son, why are __**you**__ here?_

_No one cares about me. They all rejected me, they all hate me!_

_Really? Look!_

{}{}{}{}

"_NO!" _roared Derek, eyes glowing and fangs out.

Melissa McCall burst in with Scott right behind her. "Oh my God!" She completely ignored Derek and grabbed the crash cart and in less than five seconds was sending a jolt of electricity into Stiles' lifeless body. She waited a few more seconds and then tried again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.

Then she shut the cart down. She seemed to shake for almost a minute, staring at Stiles, then told them she would find a doctor to call the time.

Lydia started crying. She had wound herself tighter than a drum for years, and now she suddenly let it all go. For the first time in her life, the mask was off…hell, it was _destroyed._ She would never again be able to hide who she was from the world. She tried to get to him, but was held back by Allison, her own face awash in tears.

"_No, oh my God Stiles, no please don't die! Please! Come back to me! I'm so sorry, I never meant those things, you were right about me, I'm selfish and evil, I should be the dead one…not you, God not you._

She collapsed against Allison, who gently led her from the room.

{}{}{}{}

_Lydia…oh my God, Mom…look at her! If she felt that way, why couldn't she tell me before? Why do people always wait until it's too late to say what they feel?_

_You aren't the only one who has been hurt, son. She has been hurt many times. She was wrong to say those things to you…but she would give her life to take them back._

{}{}{}{}

Jackson stood over the hospital bed, and looked down at Stiles' pale, still face. Although the tears were constant, he gave no sign of the emotional turmoil raging inside of him, except for an occasional small shudder. Danny would have been stunned to see it.

"I'm sorry too, man. It doesn't mean shit…but I'm sorry too. I realized today that…we could have been friends. Good friends, at least as good as Danny and I. You guys are more alike than either of you know. He always calls me out on my shit, that's why I love him so much. You would have done the same. I don't…let people get close to me. I'm too afraid to let people in, too afraid they'll hurt me. I just figured out today that you never would have. I know why you did this…and I know it's my fault. Every day I'm going to think about the friend that I lost, the friend I never got to hang out with, go to the movies with…go on double dates with, eat pizza with…play video games with, talk about life with…the friend I cheated myself out of. You would have helped me work through the issues that made me the incredible prick I was to you. I know what it's like to lose a mother…I could have helped you too. But now I won't ever get the chance. I have no one to blame but myself. I'd give anything to have you back. I love you, man. In a straight way."

Jackson left to find Allison and Lydia, and hopefully try to comfort them.

Scott said nothing. There was nothing for him to say. The black guilt was like a tight rope around his neck. He felt he could die from it. He just cried, and when the grief was too big to release through mere tears, he howled. Not a wolf howl, a very human one.

Isaac and Boyd, who had known Stiles the least, were nonetheless able to feel every nuance of the tragedy that played out before them. They knew they would never understand exactly what it was that they had lost, what the world had lost…but they saw the shadow it cast over everyone else in the room, and their hearts were heavy.

Erica herself had a secret crush on Stiles for years, a fact no one else in the world knew (and never would if she had anything to say about it). She never felt she had a chance with her epilepsy and how the school always looked at her. After she turned, somewhere far in the back of her mind she had decided she would make a play for him. If Derek and Lydia were any indication, he liked dangerous, dominating and sometimes violent partners. Hitting him with the starter from his beloved Jeep and leaving him in a dumpster perhaps had been a _touch_ over the line…but she was a new wolf, with a burning desire to experience everything the world had to offer, and every emotion was exaggerated and colored with animal instinct.

When she was turned, her wolf wanted Derek; hell it wanted Boyd, Isaac, Scott and Jackson…maybe even all at once, with Danny and Matt filming. She might even have gone for Lydia or Allison in the right frame of mind. Then Stiles stood there and looked her right in the eyes when she was practically trying to drown him in her cleavage. He looked right into her soul and refused to be distracted by her feminine charm…he wanted to deal with _Erica_ herself. He wouldn't let her demean herself for him. It was what he did with Lydia…sure, he was a hormonal teenager and Lydia was the stuff erotic dreams were made of for most boys, but that was only half of what Stiles liked about her. When she saw those penetrating brown eyes now staring into _her_, she suddenly wondered how she would measure up to his fiery-haired life-long crush. She couldn't deal with knowing the answer…to have him turn her down when she was at the very top of her game…so she hit him. She trashed him before he could trash her…like Lydia did. Only Erica did it for real, instead of with words…and she knew that she had blown it with him forever. Sure Derek shoved him around a lot, but the Alpha always respected his well-being. Derek would _never_ lock him in a dumpster, like he was human garbage. Now _she_ felt like garbage, the self-loathing even greater than when she saw the Youtube video of her having a fit in front of the whole school, the kids telling her the next day to skip the 'seizure salad' for lunch.

Derek tore into her for beating up Stiles. She had never seen him like that, but she took it because she knew she deserved it.

'Someday,' she thought. 'when I get a handle on this whole werewolf business, and Allison's stupid family is out of the picture…I'll make it up to him. I'm not some fucking stupid skank like Lydia. I can take my time, make sure I have total control first. No doubt he'll still be single, still be around. Still be alive.'

But not anymore. It was too late.

{}{}{}{}

_Jackson wanted to be my friend? He's not just saying that, I can hear what they're thinking too! Erica liked me…really thought I was worth dating! Scott…oh, God…Mom, Dad…Scott wants to kill himself too, he's __**really**__ planning it! He's thinking about stealing another bullet from the Argents to make sure, or just walking into their house and attacking until they put him down! They…they're __**all**__ thinking about it on some level! Scott feels the most guilt…but if he does it, some of them might do more than just think about it. Allison will definitely go over the edge…then Lydia…then Jackson._

_ Don't forget Derek, Genim._

_ How could I forget him? God, he never meant to reject me, he just didn't want me to make that decision for other people instead of myself. He __**wanted**__ to bite me, __**wanted**__ to be with me! God, he loves me…and I hurt him. I hurt him so much by doing this. I hurt the man I love._

_ You LOVE HIM? Son, you like guys? But I thought…_

_ Steven, not now._

_ But Stella!_

_ Steven!_

_ *Sigh* Yes, dear._

{}{}{}{}

Derek didn't question why Melissa failed to notice his shifted features. All he could think about was that Stiles was gone, before Derek had even gotten a chance to tell him how he felt, and how sorry he was. How sorry all of them were. He thought that the fire that destroyed his family had burned out his soul, that Kate had murdered his heart along with his loved ones. He had no idea how very wrong he was. He would never recover from this. The Argents didn't seem to matter anymore. The Pack didn't seem to matter. Life didn't matter. He was worse than empty inside; he could _not feel a single thing_. He wanted to go to some small dark place where no one could find him and then just wait there until death took him. Or maybe he wouldn't wait. Maybe it was time for Isaac or Boyd to take over. Scott would have been his first choice…but Scott was starting to smell like suicide himself.

Derek put his hands over his face. How had it gotten to this? How had this happened?

{}{}{}{}

_Mom…is it…too late…_

_To go back? Genim, the only reason why the bite didn't save you is that you __**chose**__ not to go back! Are you changing your mind?_

_I'm sorry…I know I should stay here with you…_

_ Nevermind that son, if you want to go back, you have to go back NOW…before it is too late._

_ What about you, Dad? Can you come back?_

_ Son, I have been working myself to death for years. It finally caught up with me. One day when you come back, I'll tell you about all of the curly fries I sneaked when you were packing salads and healthy sandwiches for my lunch. I thank God I managed to make it this long…my doctors had me written off a year ago. You're a man now, you don't need me anymore. Now go! Right through there!_

_ Dad…I can't go through. __**Something isn't letting me.**_

{}{}{}{}

They were about to leave. Isaac and Boyd placed their hands on his legs one last time, heads bowed, giving him the respect of a true Pack member lost. Erica, cradled his left hand. Scott, acting on some primitive instinct, touched Stiles' right hand. Derek reached down and stroked his hands through Stiles hair, the five werewolves standing around him like the points of a star.

The moment the contact was made, Stiles' eyes opened. They glowed with a hellish amber light. In an instant, he was sitting up, and he struck out at both Scott and Erica, sending them flying backwards into the walls. He kicked savagely at Boyd and Isaac, who flew backwards into the empty chairs. Stiles was suddenly standing on the hospital bed, claws out and longer than any Beta Derek had ever seen. Derek looked up at him…Stiles, the Omega…the doormat…the boy none of them had loved quite enough was growling savagely down at Derek with teeth fit for an Alpha crowding his mouth.

No sign of the human Stiles could be seen in the bestial face. _Stiles was not in there._

Derek found himself grabbed by the neck and lifted from the floor. The boy that used to be Stiles roared a challenge at him, the mouth impossibly wide. Derek roared back and grabbed Stiles' frail-seeming arm, giving in to the full Alpha shift to match the inhuman strength within it. Stiles began to slowly crush Derek's windpipe. Panicked, Derek sent an Alpha command into the boy's mind. There was no response. Derek pulled even harder at the death-grip around his neck and succeeded in loosening it, but just as Stiles let go, his other fist crashed like a sledgehammer into Derek's side, snapping at least three ribs. Derek collapsed to the floor. Stiles clawed the tubes and drips out of his arms, then shredded the remains of the hospital gown off of his body. Naked, he dropped to the floor and was through the window in a moment. The scent faded before the glass finished falling.

Everyone managed to untangle themselves and get to their feet. Derek was the most seriously injured. He lifted up his shirt, and irritably pressed the protruding ribs beneath his skin once more so they could heal properly.

Melissa rushed back in with the doctor. He looked at the bed and then at the broken window.

"Another fugue case?" he exclaimed, glaring at Melissa.

"Maybe Lydia's contagious." she muttered.

{}{}{}{}

After the doctor left, Derek handed Stiles' shirt to the new werewolves. "Use this to track his scent."

"Derek, he was dead! How _did_ he turn…and how did it happen so fast? It took me a whole night to turn when you bit me!" Isaac gasped, wounded and terrified. Derek on his worst day was nothing compared to Stiles.

Derek sighed. "I don't know. I guess it's different when you bite someone in a coma, someone on death's door. The Turn takes the whole night so the wolf and human spirits can blend into one. In Stiles' case…"

"Stiles was gone, so the wolf just came in and took off?" Boyd asked incredulously. Stiles had caved in Boyd's entire rib cage, and Isaac wasn't much better off.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yes. Doesn't help that there is a full moon tonight. I can only hope the change will heal the brain damage by morning and bring Stiles back to himself, but until then…he's one of us without any shred of human restraint. You have no idea how dangerous that can be."

Boyd gulped, and Isaac and Erica looked pale and shocked. That was good. If they hadn't been here to watch, they wouldn't have appreciated the danger until Stiles was pulling loops of their intestines out with his claws.

{}{}{}{}

Scott was giving his mother the short version of the events, starting from when he was bitten all the way up to what happened with Stiles.

She took it all in without a hint of disbelief, and he wondered why that was.

She looked steadily at him. "I knew about the Hales. That's a long story that happened a long time ago, and I may tell you about it someday. I had no idea about Allison's family and what they did. I never met Peter Hale until our date, and never knew he was one of them until just now. Kind of makes me feel better about his disappearing act. I wish you had told me when you were bitten, Scott. You'd have been surprised at how much I could have helped you. But Stiles is the problem now. Derek had no call to try to turn him in this state without knowing the risks." She paced to the other side of the waiting room.

"How did it happen, Scott? How did Stiles get so lost?"

Scott flushed and looked away. "I told you already. We…just took him for granted."

"Remember that advice I gave you for Allison?"

Scott nodded.

"If by some miracle Stiles comes through this okay, don't you ever let this happen again. You make sure he knows his friends care for him and love him every day. You tell him until he gets sick of hearing it, and then you tell him again. Got it?'

"Yeah, yeah I got it."

Melissa started to cry again as she figured out a way to broach the next topic.

"Listen…Steven knew he had heart disease. He had three serious attacks just in the last six months. He didn't tell Stiles because he didn't want him to worry. He named me as Stiles' guardian should anything happen."

Scott gaped at her.

"It doesn't matter too much legally, given that he's 18 now… but I mean to see that he's taken care of as if he were my own child. Scott, I want you to find him and bring him back safe and sound…but try not to get hurt doing it, all right? And no more secrets between us, now or ever."

"Ok Mom."

Scott joined Derek and the other Betas in the hall. He knew Stiles' scent by heart already, and they quickly left the hospital and followed the gleaming olfactory trail. None were surprised when it led to the Lacrosse field at the high school.

{}{}{}{}

Matthews searched in vain for the wristwatch he lost earlier in the day when he tackled Stilinski and got beat near to death by Jackson. It was dark, and the floodlights were off, but he was sure he could find it with his flashlight if he could just catch the metal with the beam…

A flare of yellow shone briefly in the darkness.

"Jackpot!" he thought to himself.

He reached down and picked up the watch, fastening it securely about his wrist.

A low growling came from nearby. Matthews whipped the flashlight around and almost burst out laughing. Stilinski was standing there stark naked…the kid who was too shy to change in the locker room with the rest of them.

"What the hell you doing, man? Streaking?"

Then Matthews saw the eyes. And the teeth. And the claws.

_"Holy fuck!"_ he shrieked. He turned to run, and at first thought he had smacked straight into a wall covered in grass at top speed… when he realized that the thing had tackled him to the ground so quickly that his mind didn't even register the switch from vertical to horizontal. Nothing could be that fast or that strong…nothing human anyway.

"Please…" he whimpered.

The thing began to growl, and Matthews felt it's jaws clamp on the back of his neck when it was suddenly torn away howling. There were more roars and growls in the darkness, yellow and red flames seemed to dance around him. He was afraid to move, but more afraid to remain. He launched himself to his feet and ran.

{}{}{}{}

Derek and Scott split off from the other Betas, trying to surround the field and cut off any chance of escape. They were closing in when they scented the human, and Derek managed to pull Stiles off right before he administered a killing bite. The human had the sense to run. Stiles tore and bit at them all in bestial fury…but for all his power, he was still a lone wolf, an Omega. The Pack brought him down as one.

{}{}{}{}

_The way is clear. I can get through now. I'm going back._

_ I love you, Genim. That has never changed. I'll watch over you, always._

_ Me too, son. I was the luckiest father in the world to have had you. I never told you that enough._

_ I love you both. Bye._

{}{}{}{}

The moon finally set. The wolf faded from Stiles' face and body. He was unnaturally still, and Derek was truly afraid that there _was _ no Stiles and never would be…when suddenly he shook himself awake. He drew in a great breath and let it out slowly.

The wonderful brown eyes that could at once seem innocent, penetrating or bottomless from one moment to the next focused on the two men seated outside the cage he was confined in.

"Let me out." Were the first words he spoke to them.

Scott shook his head. "Stiles, we need to make sure that-"

Stiles was on his feet. They had dressed him in the clothes he wore to the hospital. He hoped Derek had done it, and not Scott…there were some things that should remain mysteries, even between best friends. He lifted up a sneakered foot and delivered a powerful kick to the cage door. The lock snapped and it swung open.

"The first thing that is going to change around here is that I am not to be ignored. Not by you, not by anyone."

He stepped out of the cage. Scott ran over to him, despite Derek's cautionary growl.

Stiles looked at him, eyes flaring. "Stop right where you are."

Scott stopped, and even backed up a few steps. "What's wrong?"

Derek groaned. Scott really had a way with words.

Stiles didn't rage, didn't ventilate him with his claws as he easily could have. He didn't bite Scott's head off…as he easily could have. He just gave him that same level gaze.

"You suck as a best friend. I needed you…I never needed you more in my life. And you let me down. I forgive you…but you are on probation, and you are _this_ close to banishment. You won't get any warnings, and if it happens…it's final."

Scott was wide-eyed and speechless, but he managed to nod.

"What can I do to fix this?" he asked.

"Repairing our friendship is now your job. Figure it out." Stiles said coldly.

Stiles looked at Derek. "I want to see the others."

"Stiles…there's something you need to know. Your father…" Derek began gently.

Stiles closed his eyes and shuddered. "I know, Derek. I won't tell you how, but I know."

{}{}{}{}

Lydia came first, though Stiles did not have her at the top of his invite list like before, she just barged her way in. Her first glance at him told her that this was not precisely the same boy she dismissed out of hand for years. Maybe it was the wolf in him, or maybe the experience of being dead…or maybe just that he was done taking everyone's crap. However it happened, the innocent boy she knew… a boy she could have loved… was gone. Only time would tell if there was anything left of him in the man in front of her.

She racked her brains for any opening to the talk they needed to have.

"Happy Birthday!" she said brightly.

Stiles goggled at her, and the expression was so adorably reminiscent of his old self that her heart gave a joyous leap in her chest. She handed him a card. Inside was a $500.00 gift card to Abercrombie & Fitch.

"I-I forgot. Thank you."

"Stiles…"

"Lydia. Of the two of us, you might actually be the one that is more screwed up. You need help. I'm not telling you this because I'm angry with you. I'm telling you this because it's true. God knows I have things I need to work on. There are some things I need to say to help with that."

Lydia held her breath, trying not to cry. He was finally going to tell her what he saw inside her soul.

"First, I'm over you. I like you as a friend and person…but not like _that_ anymore."

She nodded quietly, her face already wet.

"Second…I'm not your whipping boy. I don't deserve it. Hell, Jackson doesn't deserve it."

Lydia nodded again.

"Third...you are an amazing person. Make it easier for the next guy to see it…not everyone looks as hard as me."

Then Stiles was hugging her, and for a moment she felt a sense of exquisite peace.

"Stiles, I'm sorry. Those words will never be enough to express what I feel. But I am."

"I know you are." he said softly.

{}{}{}{}

Stiles met Jackson on the field, both in their lacrosse uniforms.

"This ball is going into that net. I want you to do everything in your power to stop me. Pretend your life depends on it, Jackson." Stiles growled.

Jackson gulped. "But Stiles, you're…you're a…"

Stiles pulled the collar of the jersey down. He wore a braid of wolfsbane around his neck.

"I'm already weaker than I was as a human. In ten minutes, I'll probably pass out…but not before I score that goal."

They separated, and Stiles began running at less than his normal speed. The wolfsbane was already taking a toll on him. Jackson ran towards him, and the two collided. Stiles successfully knocked Jackson partly off balance, and whirled his body 180 degrees and swept his stick viciously at Jackson's legs. The blond landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him, while Stiles made it to the goal and netted the ball. He pulled off the wolfsbane and tossed it into a trash can next to the bleachers before helping Jackson to his feet.

"You're not better than me." Stiles looked Jackson dead in the eyes when he said this.

"In fact, you're not better than anyone. _Or_ worse; don't get me wrong, I'm not putting you down, you just need to be knocked off your high horse. I don't need your contempt, pity or charity. You pushed a lot of people away in your life. Be careful you don't push so many people away that you wind up all alone someday."

Jackson said nothing. He was not precisely afraid of Stiles…not the way he was of Derek…but he wasn't exactly _unafraid _of him either.

"Thank you for paying for my Dad's funeral. I could have done it when the insurance check cleared, but I know you didn't do it because you thought I was broke. We… can be friends, if you like." Stiles looked at him steadily.

"I'd like to be friends with _you_, Stiles. Just… not with Scott."

Stiles laughed, and the air between them seemed to get lighter. "Understood."

"By the way…Danny actually thought you were pretty hot. Sorry about what I said. I didn't think I could handle Scott and Allison tagging along with you and Danny."

Stiles nodded. "If he thought so, he should have told me himself. I think…I'm pretty sure I'm in love with someone else. But I'm very flattered."

"You should be. But you _are _an attractive guy." Jackson told him, reddening.

Stiles shook his head in mock wonder. "From famine to feast. I have to watch my ego doesn't get too big. I'll have to start driving a Porsche"

Jackson playfully shoved him. "Asshole."

{}{}{}{}

He met Allison at her favorite art gallery. She stood before Renoir's _Luncheon of the Boating Party _on loan from The Phillips Collection in Washington D.C.

"I knew you'd be a sucker for the French Impressionists." he told her.

He was dead on, and already knew more about her artistic tastes than Scott did.

She turned to him with a smile, and realized she had no idea what to say to him. She had swooped in from nowhere and flew away with his best friend like a predatory vulture. His sense of abandonment led him to try to kill himself. What did one say to that person, no matter how insightful they might be?

Stiles filled in the gap for her. "Let me guess what you like about the subject. Being kept under lock and key by your parents for most of your life, you love the freedom of the people on the canvas…they're laughing and talking and socializing…and just having fun."

He went on, seeming to piece her inner mind together as he went, with effortless accuracy. "You're like the girl in the center, the only one who seems apart from things. You think that this is because you wouldn't know how to relate to others even if you got the chance…but you still want to try. That's why a girl as pretty and nice as you only has one friend…Lydia…and can afford to be so focused on her boyfriend."

He was beginning to frighten her.

"Stiles…"

"If I'm making assumptions, I'm sorry…but what I did was not your fault. Scott could have figured out a way to have two people in his life."

"He feels really guilty about it. After you woke up and told him off, he cried the whole night."

Stiles closed his eyes in sympathetic pain for his lifelong friend. Scott needed to be taught the meaning of friendship, but that didn't mean Stiles enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

"I'll let up on him. For you. I promise."

"Melissa wants you to move in with them." she said, eager to deflect the conversation away from herself.

"Yeah, maybe not such a good idea while I'm so mad at Scott. We're both werewolves now, remember. I'm staying with Derek until I figure things out."

"How's that going?"

"Slow."

"Oh. Have you…forgiven him yet?"

Stiles looked askance at her. "Derek's not the one that needs forgiving. I am. Oh, he's not acting mad at me or anything…but I can tell how much I hurt him…I can practically smell it on him." For the first time since his rebirth, tears began to pour from his eyes. He had changed when he came back…the old Stiles was dead. The new Stiles was more assertive…even aggressive at times…and laughed far less often. But if he could still cry, maybe there was a bit of the old Stiles left.

"Shall we go look at some more paintings?" he asked.

Allison gave him a radiant smile, and for a moment he was carried away by her beauty…inside and out.

"Wow," he breathed. "I really understand what he sees in you now. I really get it. No wonder he loves you so much…" Stiles shook his head as if struggling to clear it. He looked around at the paintings. "You should be in here. On canvas. If someone could capture what I just saw, it would blow everybody away."

Allison blushed furiously and took his arm. The hint of fear had gone. "Oh, you sweet talker you. Flattery will get you everywhere."

"Let's hang out sometime. Without Scott. I just want to see if his head explodes."

They laughed, and walked over to check out Van Gogh.

{}{}{}{}

It rained during the funeral. The priest droned on and on about eternal life in the heavenly kingdom, but Stiles tuned him out until it was time for him to deliver the eulogy. Stiles stood before them in his best suit, a black band on his left arm signaling that he was in mourning. In truth, he wasn't. He knew his father was in a better place with his beloved wife, and that he would see both of them again someday. He was sad that his father had not lived until retirement, sad they never had the chance to catch up on all of the things they missed out on. At least Stiles had gotten to say goodbye to him

The eulogy was brief, powerful climactic and left not a dry eye in the house…although it was hard to tell for sure with Derek. The black suit combined with the black shades along with his utter stillness made the Sphinx seem the more emotional of the two. When it was over, Derek came over and took Stiles' arm in his and walked him to the waiting limousine. Back at 'Wolf's Lair' as Stiles had begun calling it, there was nowhere to really sleep, So Stiles had begun taking Derek to his own home, after exacting an oath that Derek would always use the door from now on. They undressed and retired to Stiles' bed, both wearing boxers and t-shirts.

Stiles knew they needed to talk, knew that Derek had waited until after the funeral out of respect for Stiles' grief…but the issue of what Stiles had done to him needed to be discussed. Until then, they could progress no further.

That didn't stop Derek from spooning into Stiles and holding him tightly until they fell asleep.

Then Derek stole all the blankets.

_**A/N – Wow, this was long. Some people wanted Stiles to live…and he did. Some wanted him to die…and he did. Some wanted the Pack to learn and grow from the experience…and they did. I hope no one thinks I handled the 'afterlife' in a cheesy way or rolls their eyes at my additions to werewolf mythology, lol. One more chapter of this for the fluff-addicts (of which I am a proud member) and this story should be done. To everyone who took the time to review…you are all MADE of awesomeness.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N – Warning! Rating officially changed to M for this chapter! If you are under-age or otherwise unable to handle Mature content, please shut your browser! DO NOT READ!**_

Derek woke up to find himself alone in the bed, and one sniff told him he was alone in the house. He started; if Stiles had been human, it would have been impossible for him to leave without Derek noticing. The odd nature of his Turning left him with a much higher dose of wolfish instinct and ability than was given to the average Beta.

Derek took a moment to look around at the room, still decorated with the usual teenage fixations on music or sports icons and cluttered with the usual teenage debris: dirty laundry, old pizza boxes, adult magazines sliding out from under the mattress with pages practically glued together.

_Shit_, that's gross.

Derek stood up and stretched, yawning hugely. He gathered the dirty laundry together (there seemed to be no end to it; the floor, under the bed, in the closet, behind the dresser; all yielded their smelly prizes to Derek's bloodhound nose) and placed it into a basket and trucked it down to the laundry room, throwing his own clothes into the machine as well. Looking around, he saw that Stiles had been busy the past couple of days…all of the Sheriff's clothing was boxed up for Good Will. Derek wondered what the Sheriff would have thought of him, of how he would have taken the relationship he had with Stiles…of all the werewolf business.

Derek shook his head free of these thoughts and started the load of laundry before heading upstairs to the kitchen. Countless neighbors and friends of the Stilinskis had donated food, and it was barely able to fit in the tiny refrigerator. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes. Derek sighed and set to work. When they were done, he sorted through the food for something suitable for breakfast, but it all seemed to be quiches and casseroles. One sniff told him the milk was off…and possibly the butter and eggs too. The Alpha dumped the dodgy food in the trash and took it out to the garage, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping outside. An old woman gazed at him in wonder from across the street where she watered her lawn. He gave her a smile and a friendly wave, and she hurriedly retreated into her house.

Derek snarled. He could barely tolerate humans sometimes.

After putting the washing into the dryer, he took another trashbag and went back upstairs, peeking for a moment into the Sheriff's bedroom. It was bare. Stiles must have packed up his belongings along with his clothes. The drawers and closet were empty, the bed stripped of sheets. Even the scent of the man was nearly faded. Twenty minutes later, the rubbish from Stiles' room was packed into the bins in the garage.

Derek decided to take a shower. While he was washing his hair, he heard Stiles outside the door.

"You can come in." Derek called to him. The door opened, and Stiles stood there with bags of groceries. He took in Derek's nakedness without comment, though he did lick his lips. Twice.

"Thanks for cleaning up. I'm making breakfast. Coffee?"

"You're my hero. Black and strong." Derek rinsed his hair under the water. Stiles was still standing there when he was finished.

"Sty, either make breakfast or get in here with me."

"Which would you prefer?"

"One, and then the other."

Stiles laughed. "I'll make breakfast first. Later, we'll see."

When Derek finished up, the aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs was already wafting through the house. The Alpha's stomach growled menacingly. Derek wrapped a towel around his waist again and joined Stiles in the kitchen. Derek set the table for two, putting out the fresh milk, orange juice and tableware. The coffee pot was already placed on a trivet, next to a steaming mug emblazoned with 'Team Derek' on the side.

"Where did you get this?" he asked before taking a huge sip.

"The mall. There's a little shop where you can get it done."

The two moved around the kitchen, avoiding each other with effortless ease, as if they had been sharing the same home and routine for years. Finally, all was ready and they sat down to eat. Derek ate the bacon with relish; it was slightly undercooked just the way he liked it. The scrambled eggs (made with melted gourmet Swiss cheese) made him groan with pleasure.

"This was your first home cooked meal, ever?" Stiles asked.

"In seven years." Back when he had a home, and a family.

They ate quietly until the food was gone. They did the dishes together; Stiles washing and Derek drying and putting away. They stood close to each other as they worked, enjoying the closeness, and taking every excuse to brush against one another. The chore done, they moved to the living room where Stiles settled on the couch. Derek made to sit next to him, but Stiles shook his head.

"If you want to talk, you need to put some clothes on. You are way too distracting."

Derek sighed before going to the laundry room and retrieving his clothes. He looked at them, all mixed together with Stiles' things, and a feeling of happiness swelled in his chest. This was the way things were supposed to be.

Stiles' eyes were moist when Derek came back upstairs, and the Alpha sat across from him in the big easy chair the Sheriff had favored. Stiles came over and sat on his lap, leaning back against him and sighing in comfort.

"I'm sorry." Stiles began.

Derek said nothing.

"I should never have done it. I had no right, no matter what the others did."

Silence from the Alpha.

"I needed them too much…and I needed them to need _me_ even more. My whole sense of purpose was built on that. When I thought it was gone, I just fell apart."

"YOU are the only sense of purpose you need." Derek whispered.

"I know that now. I sit here, just a few days after it happened… and I can't imagine what I was thinking. It was a stupid decision I came to in a weak moment. I just wanted the pain to stop. Derek, I hurt so much and I thought no one cared."

"I didn't know you were hurting, Stiles. I had no idea how abandoned you felt when you came to me. I knew the others took you for granted, and was going to lace into them for it. But you never gave me the chance to help…and left me to blame myself for losing you. Considering how we feel about each other, that's a lot for me to forgive."

"But you do forgive me, right?" Stiles asked softly.

"Will you agree to see a counselor? I think you need someone to talk stuff over with…someone who could be objective."

"All right. Anything else?"

"Will you ever do anything that stupid again?"

"No. I promise."

"Even if I cheat on you with Scott and leave you a note saying I never loved you and that I was better off when you were dead?"

Stiles stood up and stared at him, anger suffusing his features.

"Why the _fuck_ would you say that to me?"

"Because I need to know that _no matter what happens_, even if it's the worst thing you can possibly imagine…you will never have the urge to hurt yourself again. I can't be the crutch that keeps you alive, Stiles. I need you to be strong and to want to live for yourself, not for anyone else. Not even me. I'd crack under that kind of pressure."

Stiles growled. "I'd live. I'd totally _eat_ you and Scott…but _I'd_ live."

Derek laughed approvingly. "Then I forgive you. And I really believe you _would _eat us, especially after I heard how you let the Pack have it the past few days. Please sit back down."

Stiles (still pissed at the question) practically jumped into Derek's lap, knocking the wind out of him.

"Ooof!" said the Alpha.

"You and Scott…_as if_. You and _Jackson_ I might have believed."

Derek laughed and gasped at the same time.

"Derek…since we're sharing…why _did_ you threaten me and get all handsy with me so much if you really cared about me?"

Derek sighed. "I really wish the 'Discovery Channel' would do a special on werewolves. I actually didn't know myself until I looked it up in one of the books that survived the fire that destroyed my home. Sometimes, when a werewolf wants someone as a mate, the wolf part tries to impress the human with his strength and aggressiveness. I chalked my behavior up to _you_ being annoying…but when it ramped up, even after you saved my life, I knew something was off and did my research. It was supposed to _attract_ you to me, make you decide I was strong enough to be a suitable mate."

"It worked in a way." Stiles started laughing. "Wow. Just, wow."

"What's so funny?" Derek growled.

"If aggressiveness means attraction, you must have been _really_ into me!"

"I was. I am. Always will be." Derek said simply. "So…what do we do now?"

"Move in with me. The house is paid for. You can't stay at 'Wolf's Lair' forever.

"Erica and Boyd have homes…but Isaac's father is in jail for child abuse. He-"

"He can stay with us, if he does the dishes. And the laundry."

Derek chuckled. "I think he'd rather stay at 'Wolf's Lair'. But I'll tell him."

"Thank you for getting me to the hospital and for giving me the bite. You saved my life, Derek. I don't know what to say about what happened before I woke up…I still can't believe it."

"That part was my fault. As for saving your life, God knows you did it for me enough times."

"Great. Are we done talking?" Stiles almost whined.

"You'd rather do something else?"

"There's a hundred things I'd rather do, and none of them involve clothing."

"Put clothes on, take them off…you're becoming pretty bossy for a Beta."

"You haven't seen anything yet. You're going to be walking funny for the next few days, Mr. Alpha. Well…funnier than usual."

Derek squawked in outrage. "I do not walk funny!"

Stiles turned and looked him in the eyes. Of all the Pack, Derek was the only one that could meet that gaze, force for force. "No, you don't. You're perfect."

The Alpha responded by pulling Stiles' shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor.

Stiles stood up and pulled Derek to his feet before yanking the Alpha's own shirt off where it joined Stiles' on the floor. They left a trail of clothing to the bedroom before falling onto the bed. Derek was kissing his mouth, his face his neck, biting and pulling at the skin with his teeth, sometimes sucking a red mark into it. Stiles glanced in the mirror attached to his closet door.

"Too bad these won't last more than a few seconds…hey, how come they're not fading?" Stiles tried to speak without moaning.

"I'm the Alpha. Anything _I_ do to you takes longer to heal. I never told you that?"

"I'm in trouble, then…"

Those were Stiles' last words, for a while, though he made quite a bit of noise.

Derek laid him out on the bed, his arms over his head, legs apart and growled at him to stay that way. Then he proceeded to suck on Stiles' fingers before moving onto the thumb, then all over the palm and back of his hand. His arm was next, all the way up to the elbow, pit (he seemed to shudder in ecstasy at the concentration of Stiles' natural scent) across the chest, stopping to nibble at the predictable places, down the other arm and then more fingers. The tongue bath continued, all over Stiles' chest, his face, his neck…not even his ears were safe. Stiles lay there at full mast, throbbing in anticipation of Derek's journey to the lower regions of Stiles Land and the pilgrimage to peak of Mt. Stiles. Derek teased him, avoiding his manhood and instead attacking his legs and feet before traveling upwards once more. Stiles' breath caught and he closed his eyes, only to be surprised when Derek flipped him face-down. Derek worked his way slowly down Stiles' back.

'Oh my God, he's not going _there_…'

But go there he did, and stayed for a while, Stiles grinding himself into the sheets until he was sure he would lose his mind. Derek took his time before rolling Stiles over again and _finally_ swallowing him down, in every sense, his entire convulsing body trying to force itself down Derek's throat. Then a slow lick back up his stomach and chest, pausing at the chin before that incredible tongue claimed Stiles' mouth.

The aftershocks subsided, and Derek pulled back and looked at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"I am in my bed, covered head to toe in werewolf drool." Stiles whispered.

"And?"

"And I've never felt more amazing in my entire life."

"How would you feel about returning the favor?" Derek's eyes flashed crimson as he spoke.

"Oh my God, can we do it now?"

"Yes."

Stiles' mouth ached when he was done, but he loved it. They rested, and then without warning, Derek slammed him deep into the mattress, brutally claiming Stiles and holding his wrists behind his back while he did it. Then the Alpha rolled him onto his back and impaled himself on Stiles, keeping control even in this position, for the short time needed to bring Stiles off again.

Four hours had gone by since they started, and they were covered with nearly every fluid the male body could produce when they finished.

"Derek?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. I've…loved you for a long time. I feel like I've _always_ loved you."

"You have, Stiles. And I've loved you, throughout all time and in a thousand different worlds. It's the stuff of music, poetry, literature and art. There may even be a TV show."

"Yeah, right. Could you do one more thing to me?"

"Name it."

"Bite me."

Derek sat up and looked at him.

"Again?"

"Yeah…like a Turning bite. I…always fantasized about it, but when I finally got it, I couldn't…appreciate it."

Derek's eyes were wide. "Stiles, the Turning Bite hurts like a bitch. You were lucky you didn't feel it."

"I _want _to feel it. I want to know what it's like to be claimed that way."

Derek considered.

"I don't want to…it will take a few days to heal…we're going to make a mess…well, more of one…but I'll do it if you bite me back."

"You go first."

They got on their knees and faced each other, the two unable to believe the other was real. They pressed their chests together and kissed, each used one arm to hold them fast together while the other hand gripped handfuls of each other's hair. They felt each other's fangs extend even while they kissed, their mouths lowering to each other's necks before selecting the spot where it joined the shoulder.

Derek leaned his head back and opened his mouth wide. Stiles heard the delicate shifting of facial bones as the jaws extended and the killing teeth grew. Then the teeth were _in_ him, and Stiles almost climaxed again at the pleasurable pain. Derek _did_ climax, and Stiles was coated with his seed even as he savagely bit down on Derek's neck, which brought him off as well. They pulled back from each other and lay down utterly exhausted while blood soaked into the sheets.

"Holy shit, that _hurts._" Stiles complained. He gently touched the bite wound, and looked at the blood on his fingers.

"I told you that, genius." growled Derek.

_Derek's_ bite was already sealed closed and fading. Stupid Alpha rules.

"When can we do it again?"

"Very soon, if you keep talking."

Stiles laughed, and Derek laughed with him. Stiles took his hand, and Derek didn't mind the blood on it.

{}{}{}{}

They showered together after they woke up. The bed-sheets were a lost cause. They were bagged and binned before an NCIS team could show up and claim them as evidence.

Stiles made Derek another home-cooked meal of steak (again undercooked, the way Derek liked it) and baked potatoes and steamed vegetables.

"If I never loved you before…" Derek growled around a mouthful of meat.

Stiles' cell phone beeped.

_It's Scott. Just making sure you're okay._

Stiles was trying to think of a reply when it beeped again.

_I love you, man. We all care about you._

Stiles rolled his eyes. He showed Derek the texts and they laughed, knowing it was mean, but Stiles' heart wasn't in it and he texted Scott back:

_Thanks bro, that really means a lot to me._

They were washing the dishes together again when Scott replied.

_I stopped by your window before. It smelled like you took a bath in Derek instead of water._

_ Don't be jealous, Scottie. You had your shot._

_ With you or with Derek? LOL_

_ BOTH at the SAME TIME_

_ Spew!_

_ Jackass. Go find Allison and get lost._

Stiles shut down his phone. He could have a text war with Scott all night (they had done so many times before) but right now he had other priorities, the first of which was finding another set of sheets to wreck before morning.

The sex was more tender this time, less urgent and needy though it was still mind-blowing. They took their time, experimented, pushed the envelope to see how far each of them would go. They spoke to each other in the language of sex, twining and twisting their bodies together into the many sigils of passion that only the most besotted of lovers can conceive of.

They watched one of those late night vintage films that are really romantic when one is in love, but would have been quietly horrific to watch alone. They both thought this, and clung to each other a little tighter, worried it was a dream that could end suddenly and leave them in a nightmare reality where the other was dead and gone.

{}{}{}{}

The next morning, Derek woke up first. The sheets would survive this time, he decided after a brief examination. Derek didn't bother to put anything on, just went down to the kitchen and put up a pot of coffee. He gathered up their clothes, pausing to look at a familiar-looking piece of paper sticking out of Stiles' pocket. The Alpha took it out and unfolded it.

'Stiles' List of Fantastic Accomplishments, 18th year.'

Successfully invite Lydia Martin to your birthday party: _**Got present. Hate A&F though. Re-Gift to Isaac.**_

Score a Lacrosse goal with Jackson: _**Whupped his ass!**_

Repair friendship with Scott: _**On you, mofo!**_

Really get to know Allison: _**New BFF!**_

Become a bad-guy eating kickass werewolf instead of a useless klutz: _**Note to self, find bad guy to eat.**_

TELL DEREK: _**Success!**_

Lose virginity: _**Coming Soon (no pun intended)**_

End it: _**FAIL**_

Derek chuckled and grabbed a pen. He crossed out 'Coming Soon' and scrawled in 'Mission Accomplished' and put it back in the pocket.

{}{}{}{}

Isaac moved in with them after Derek paid a brief trip to Mr. Lahey's prison cell in the middle of the night (courtesy of the late Sheriff Stilinski's keys) and 'convinced' him that there would be a lot more sunshine and lollipops and less severed limbs and bloodshed in the world if custody of Isaac was immediately turned over to Derek. Mr. Lahey agreed that the world could use a little bit more sunshine and promised to call his lawyer the next day.

Derek and Stiles retrieved Isaac's few belongings while he gathered his stuff from the now abandoned 'Wolf's Lair'. The werewolves thoughtfully destroyed the meat freezer in the basement before leaving.

Isaac took Stiles' old room while the older werewolves took the master bedroom. They quickly grew into a little family unit during the two years they lived together, and there was a great deal of sadness all around when Isaac finally went off to college.

{}{}{}{}

Twenty-eight days after Stiles' resurrection, the Pack gathered, along with Melissa McCall at Stiles' house for dinner. It was very low-key, no one felt in the mood for an all-out party so soon after the Sheriff's passing. Stiles used every culinary trick he knew, and even the girls (who were borderline anorexic) gave in and tried nearly everything Stiles created. Lydia remarked more than once that if she knew Stiles could cook, she would have jumped on his back and ridden him to the nearest chapel side-saddle.

Stiles kept blushing and taking the compliments with modesty and decorum. Derek's mood was jovial and engaging (as regular mind-shattering sex will do to even the broodiest Alpha werewolf), and even Melissa was charmed by him. She studied the upkeep of the home and the easy intimacy he shared with Stiles, and gave up her notion of forcing him to move into her own house. Anyone could see he was extremely happy, and she had no intention of being an interfering busybody.

Of everyone there, only Allison and Scott seemed to be too preoccupied to socialize. They just sat on one of the couches and looked as gloomy as the Alpha on his worst day.

"Scott, honey, what's wrong? Hasn't Stiles forgiven you yet?" asked his mother, concerned.

"No, we're good as ever again. It's just…" he looked at Allison for help.

"It's my grandfather, Gerard. He's on a rampage because of what happened to Kate, and he keeps swearing that he's going to cut every werewolf in Beacon Hills in half. I almost think my parents would lay off if not for him egging them on. Scott and I have been pretending to be split up…but my Mom found out somehow that we were still together."

Melissa turned crimson, suddenly realizing the true purpose of Victoria Argent's hospital visit the day before.

"Leave it to me. I'll talk to them. I promise you that they will leave all of you alone when I am done with them."

"Mom, please don't. Gerard's crazy…he stabbed me once and threatened to hurt you if I got out of line. You don't know what he's like!"

"I'll be fine, Scott. Just _once_ in your life, will you trust your mother?"

"If you talk to them, do it at the hospital, where there'll be plenty of witnesses if he gets crazy."

Melissa considered. "That's a good idea, Scottie. Victoria's due back in a few days to have the stitches out. I'll talk to them then."

**THE END**

_**A/N – Now would be a good idea to switch to some other story. Let's just say that Gerard is out of the picture and Melissa convinced the Argents to go away. Don't ask how. If you ABSOLUTELY MUST KNOW, read on, but this epilogue WILL NOT feature Stiles or Derek or the rest of the Pack (though I may pick up this verse in the future since people liked it so much) and is in a completely different vein than anything read so far. It is NOT for the faint of heart. This is the last chance to bask in STEREK AFTERGLOW and Youtube some home-made music videos based on their relationship.**_

{}{}{}{} _A few days later._

Victoria Argent was a completely different person than at the last hospital visit.

"I have medical training. I could have removed the stitches myself, _Nurse McCall._"

Melissa smiled at her. "This will just take a few seconds, I promise. Chris and Gerard are with you, I take it?"

Victoria harrumphed. "Yes, outside in the waiting room."

"Good. I don't want you driving with this stuff in your system." Melissa picked up a silver syringe from a steel tray.

"I assure you that I do not require anesthetic!" The ice-cold blue eyes glared at her.

"Victoria, I was written up by my superior _and_ sent a long legal letter by the hospital lawyers when they found out I put stitches in you with no pain killers. Unless you'd like to support my family when I get fired, try not to be so squeamish over a tiny little needle! Really, a grown woman!"

Victoria sputtered. "How dare you suggest! Fine, go ahead. Stick me with your little needle!"

"With pleasure…" Melissa said in a low voice.

Victoria Argent was out cold less than ten seconds after the needle left her arm.

{}{}{}{}

"Chris, Gerard…did Victoria have anything to eat this morning? Any adverse reactions to anesthetic?" A frantic Melissa confronted the two in the waiting room.

"What happened? Where is my wife?" Chris grabbed Melissa's arm. She shrugged it off surprisingly easily.

"Come with me."

Victoria was sprawled on the floor when the two men entered. The door swung softly shut behind Melissa.

"Victoria!" shouted Chris.

"God help us," growled Gerard.

"Not today," grunted Melissa as she plunged two syringes into their backs.

{}{}{}{}

Victoria woke up next to a corpse. She screamed and struggled, realizing she was naked and wrapped completely in plastic and confined in a steel morgue drawer. The drawer was not quite closed, letting dim light shine directly into her eyes. Suddenly, she was slid out and manhandled to her feet by Melissa. The psychotic nurse strapped Victoria to an upright gurney next to her husband and father-in-law, also naked and plastic-wrapped. The walls and floor were also covered in plastic sheeting. The Argents were ardent fans of _Dexter_ and knew exactly what this was.

A kill room.

Victoria glared daggers at her. "You let us free this instant, or so help me I'll…"

"Ah, ah. Don't talk back to the crazy woman with the scalpel." Melissa grinned at them. "Or I might be tempted to do this!"

She plunged the scalpel into Gerard's side and twisted it. He shrieked. Chris and Victoria stared at her wide-eyed.

"A little payback for my son. Don't worry, I didn't hit any major organs. You won't bleed out. I AM a rather competent nurse!"

Chris tried to speak once he was sure he could do it without stuttering.

"What…is this all about?" he ground out.

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "The next time you speak to me as if I am a fool who knows nothing, I am going to cut out your tongue and make your wife eat it for an appetizer. Your genitalia will be the main course. Do you understand the words that just came out of my mouth?"

Chris paled, and his mouth began to tremble. "Yes."

"Good. You tell _me_ why you're here. Try to imagine. First prize for a correct answer is that your eyes stay unpunctured."

"Scott. Melissa, I know he's your son but you have no idea what he is…" Gerard stopped as he realized he had just wet himself from terror. The urine stayed trapped in the plastic, unpleasantly warm against his skin.

"My son is a werewolf. And I'm a serial killer. So what!" She leaned in close to Gerard.

"Do you have any idea where my ex-husband is?" She held the scalpel (still warm from his blood) against his neck.

"No!" he gasped.

Melissa smiled again. "Neither does anyone else!"

"Holy Christ," muttered Victoria.

"Do you think I'm blind? I know what you did to my son, Gerard. I had it out with him. He tried to lie, he tried to protect you all…for Allison's sake and mine…but I finally got it out of him. He told me that YOU threatened _me_, and threatened to cut _him_ in half with a sword! MY SON!" she screamed in the old man's face. "I have a good mind to cut _all three _of you in half…with this!" she waved the scalpel around.

Chris sneered at her. "We have people. You touch us, and your son won't last more than a day. They'll take him and…"

Melissa walked over to a drawer and pulled it out. The body was mutilated beyond belief, but the face was intact. Tyhurst.

She opened another drawer. Unger, same condition. She opened drawer after drawer after drawer.

"I've been busy. In fact, the only Hunter left alive in this whole town…aside from myself, though strictly speaking I could give a shit if someone's a werewolf or not…is your own daughter Allison."

"No…you won't harm her…" Chris growled.

"No, I won't…and not because of some laughable threat you're too terrified to come up with. I won't because my son loves her. No other reason. The question is…what to do with you three."

"There are Hunters all over the country."

"There are _serial killers_ all over the country, and we're networked. I had a friend hack into your home computer. I now have a file on every Hunter in your organization, in the _entire world. _I could have the Hunters wiped out with one coded message on Facebook! I published pictures of all your little club members on my page, with enough information so that my friends can find you all and rip you apart if anything happens to Scott or myself. See, unlike werewolves, _there is no test for us_. We could be anyone…your chauffeur, your butler, your doctor…or Nurse!...your mechanic…you'll watch your backs forever, and it won't do any good. I know a Senator in the Midwest who makes those cute little leather neckties out of his victims. He has over two hundred."

Melissa's eyes were very dark when she looked at them.

"I want to kill you three. But first, I want to torture you so brutally that when I let you die, you thank me for it."

The three Argents looked at her in fearful silence.

"But it might upset Allison…and more importantly, my son." Melissa tapped the bloody scalpel thoughtfully against her lip. "I will admit, it's a thorny one…"

"Let us go. We'll leave town. You'll never hear from any of us again. Please…" Victoria begged. Victoria imagined herself a woman of hardened steel, immune to the weakness of human emotion she saw so often in others. She realized she had no idea what true ruthlessness was…until today.

"Really? Do you promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?" Melissa asked in a syrupy sweet voice. "_I told you not to treat me like a fool…"_

Melissa took out a medical tool that looked like an ice pick along with a small metal hammer. She approached Gerard who looked at her with a terrified expression.

"I heard you were the cause of all the problems lately. Ever hear of a little procedure called 'lobotomy'?

"No, please no…"

"Begging. Did you listen to that Omega you bisected in the forest? Did your whackjob of a daughter listen to the screams of the dying when she torched the Hale house? Come on, we are all Hunters, above listening to the squeals of the meat. Don't belittle yourself, Gerard. It embarrasses both you AND me. There's only one set of rules, old man. You can't have it both ways. You're either predator, or prey. Even the fucking werewolves know that."

Melissa sighed at them. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The process of lobotomy is decades old, and its inventors thought it highly scientific. It was easily taught to the layperson, and was performed on hundreds of victims…I mean, patients…by non-medical professionals. Which means, I'm really good at it since I AM a medical professional. What you do is place the tip of the rod against the orbital socket, like so…"

Gerard was crying and trying to shake his head. Melissa _tsked_ at him and immobilized his head with a clamp that she attached to the gurney.

"…the patient is usually sedated, but you Argents like to go without, don't you? Makes you feel all tough, not like the rest of the sheep…more like wolves would you say?"

She placed the tip against the tear duct of Gerard's left eye. He moaned and whined, and more urine splashed against the inside of the plastic.

"Melissa, stop, please…" Victoria begged loudly.

"He's my father, damnit!" yelled Chris.

"Once in place, you gently tap it so that it penetrates the skull and orbital socket and enters deep into the frontal lobe…that's where you _think_, where you _live_ inside your heads!"

Gerard screamed as she gently tapped the rod until it was buried in the man's brain.

Chris and Victoria, hardened as they were, looked away and shut their eyes.

"And now…for the scientific part…you wiggle it, like this! Ta da! All neural connections in the frontal lobe are severed and the patient is in a permanent vegetative state."

Melissa yanked out the pick. Gerard was silent and unconscious. His breath was slow and even.

"Go on. Insult my intelligence again…you morons! You're dumb enough to threaten my son and then turn yourselves over to my medical care, and then think you can lie to my face?" she hissed at them.

"What are you going to do with us?" Chris asked.

"I think you die, painfully, at my hands. Unless…well, part of me _wants_ to let you live…if I kill you, I get stuck with the whole wedding bill for Scott and Allison. But if my contacts ever told me you were coming within a _hundred miles_ of Beacon Hills…"

" No, that will never happen…we'll stay far away…we'll even pay for the wedding! Please, let us go!"

"You'll pay for the wedding? The whole thing, even the honeymoon package? Now that _is_ tempting. Hmmm, all right then."

Melissa opened the door, and two burly orderlies walked in. They leered at the Argents.

"These the ones, Ma'am?" asked the taller of the two.

"Yes. Phil, I want the old man to be stitched up and transferred to our long-term care facility. He's had a stroke, you see. Dennis, bring the other two their clothes and release them."

"I thought we were gonna get a chance to play with them!" whined Dennis. He pulled a nylon cord out of his pocket and began winding it through his fingers.

Victoria's mouth went dry as she looked from the cord to the man's staring eyes.

"No, Dennis, have your fun elsewhere. I gave them my word, and…." she stared at them. "…I always mean what I say."

_**A/N – I told you not to read it. I apologize, this plot bunny escaped and there was no catching it. To make it up to you, I take back what I said and offer one more Sterek paragraph.**_

{}{}{}{}

_One year later_

Derek clicked on the game while Stiles paid for the pizza and buffalo-wings. Stiles had no interest in the game, but he loved being next to Derek (who would often grab Stiles and kiss him savagely when his team scored a goal or run or point or whatever). While they watched the pre-game show, Stiles mentioned a call he got from Scott that morning.

"Can you believe Scott's been on his honeymoon for six months? After that unbelievable wedding too…the Argents must be paupers after bankrolling that."

Derek grunted around a particularly juicy wing.

"Good. I hope they can't afford to come back from wherever the hell they went."

"What made them leave?" Stiles wondered aloud.

"No idea. Scott said his mother talked them into it, after Gerard had his stroke." Derek's attention was drawn back to the game.

"I never thought life could be like this. No more Hunters, no more drama, no more killings…it's just us living together and being happy."

"You sound disappointed. I'm glad it's all over."

"My Dad always used to say 'All bad things come to an end.' I guess he was right."

Derek grabbed another slice of pizza and devoured it.

"Der?"

"Yeah, Sty?" he grumbled, glancing between the game and his mate.

"I love you."

Derek looked at Stiles, sitting there with a single tear of happiness rolling down his cheek. Then he clicked off the TV and focused his attention on the thing in his life that really mattered. Stiles didn't even mind that the Alpha hit the 'record' button on the remote first.

_**A/N - P.S. Thank all of you wonderful wonderful people that made writing this one of the greatest experiences in my life. **_


End file.
